


What we lose, and what we gain

by yunhaiiro



Series: The calm before the storms [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Black Panther (2018), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, let's pretend there was a time between those two where they could just... chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunhaiiro/pseuds/yunhaiiro
Summary: “It was crazy, though. At the moment.”“Yeah. How did it start? Do you remember?”“I think it was Dum Dum…”Bucky laughs.“It was always Dum Dum.”The Howling Commandos, before being called that, got matching tattoos.





	What we lose, and what we gain

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my beta [dfotw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dfotw/pseuds/dfotw), this time for saving this fic from ruin and my tendency to not fact-check anything. You deserve the world, my dear.

“I had forgotten about that.” 

Steve looks up from his book and peers curiously at Bucky, who is sitting on the couch, Steve’s legs on his lap. Steve is lounging on it, barefoot, and Bucky is staring at his feet with an undecipherable expression. 

“About what?” 

“This”, and he taps the spot above his right ankle. 

Steve twists the foot to look at the faded symbol tattooed on his skin. The Howling Commandos wing. 

Steve leaves the book open on his chest and looks at the ceiling, hands crossing behind his head. 

“God, yeah. It doesn’t feel like it, but it’s been…” 

“73 years”, Bucky finishes softly. “You’ve had yours for that long.” 

He looks at his left side, missing an arm. 

“I had mine for, what, a year and change?” 

Steve sighs and looks at him with worry. 

Bucky has his face turned away from him, hair hiding his expression. But when he turns back to face him, he looks both resigned and a tiny bit amused. 

“Don’t get me wrong, losing an arm sucked for other, bigger reasons, but I had forgotten that one.” 

Steve chuckles and the tension eases a little. 

“It was crazy, though. At the moment.” 

“Yeah. How did it start? Do you remember?” 

“I think it was Dum Dum…” 

Bucky laughs. 

“It was always Dum Dum.” 

 

* * *

 

“Do any of you fellas have a tattoo?” 

Everyone looked up from what they were drinking (Steve had ordered alcohol too, even if it wouldn’t work on him, if only for the camaraderie). 

“Isn’t that a Navy thing?” Morita asked. 

“Or worse”, Falsworth added. 

“Aw, come on. Is that what you all think of them?” 

“I like them”, Dernier said, leaning back on his chair. “But I don’t have any.” 

Dugan turned to Bucky and Steve, who was caught mid-swig. 

“And what about our younger officers?” 

Bucky scoffed. 

“We’re not that much younger than you. And no, we don’t have any either.” 

No one batted an eyelash at him answering for Steve. 

But Steve, after swallowing the drink, did pipe up to say: 

“I’ve seen people getting one done, though.” 

“Isn’t it… Painful?” Falsworth asked. 

“Depends on where you get it”, Dugan answered, quickly establishing himself as the expert. 

“Do   _you_  have one?” Jones asked, stealing it from everybody else’s mind. 

“Yep. But it’s private.” 

“Why even bring it up in the first place, then?” 

“Well, that’s the thing,” Dugan leaned in, eyebrows wiggling like he was about to let them in into a big secret. “I think it’s a very nice way to commemorate things.” 

“Here we go,” Morita sighed. “What do you want us to get?” 

Dugan seemed taken aback by his bluff being called so early, but pressed on. 

“Well, we’re all brothers in arms. I thought it would be nice to have something to commemorate that.” 

All eyes around the table stared at him skeptically. 

“Okay, okay. I thought we could all get our symbol tattooed. Small, nothing too fancy.” 

"Our symbol? You mean the wing?" 

"Yeah, like the one on our patches", he pointed to his own, on his left arm on his uniform. 

"Who came up with that, actually?" Morita asked. 

"Pretty sure it was our very own Captain," Falsworth said, looking over at him. Steve looked bashful. 

"You don't like it? It has a meaning, you know." 

Falsworth shakes his head, not unkindly. 

"It just seems like we'd be branding ourselves... Kind of like cattle." 

"Aw, come on", Dugan insisted. "We  _are_  the Captain's team, after all. We already have it on our uniforms. This is for when we can finally hang those, something that we'll have forever. We'll be able to show it to our kids 20 years from now." 

Morita sighed.  

“Where?” 

“Wherever each of you wants, really. Doesn’t really matter.” 

Now they looked at each other, trying to guess their possible answers. 

“And who would do it?” Bucky asked. 

“I know a guy.” 

“Of course you do.” 

“I’m in”, Dernier said. Jones nodded his agreement. 

“I don’t know…”, said Falsworth, when no else seemed to be willing to commit to an answer. 

“You can all think about it, of course, no need to agree right now. But to be honest, the point is for us   _all_  to get it…” Dugan doubled down. 

Bucky looked at Steve, who looked right back at him. Steve had the slightest hint of pleading in his face. Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“I’m also in”, Steve finally said, turning his head back to look at Dugan. 

“Yeah”, sighed Bucky. 

“Well damn”, Morita said. “If the Captain is getting it, I don’t think we can say no now.” 

The ones still unsure shrugged, mulling it over. They all muttered their agreement after a while. 

Dugan seemed very happy. 

“Great. I’ll have to ask my guy, and because we’re so many, it’ll probably have to be at night… I’ll tell you when I get the details.” 

“I want in, too.” 

They all turned around to see Agent Carter standing next to their table. 

Dugan was caught off-guard and spluttered for a bit. 

“Well, now, miss Carter, I don’t think… I mean, it’s not really proper…” 

Peggy tilted her head, crossed her arms, and fixed him with a steely look. 

“I think it has been established how much I care for being ‘proper’, Mr. Dugan.” 

“Well…” 

“I don’t see a problem with it”, Steve said, smiling shyly at Peggy. She returned the smile. 

And, for the second time in ten minutes, whatever Steve said, went. No one thought of contradicting him. 

Bucky sat there, sipping his drink, and mused that at least now someone else got to experience that power Steve had. 

 

* * *

 

They ended up having to split into two groups, and go in two separate days. 

Dugan went with Morita and Falsworth, maybe to make sure they didn’t bail out, and Jones and Dernier tagged along. They all came back showing off their tattoos, skin red from irritation, some complaining about the pain, others about how they were supposed to wash it several times a day and how inconvenient it was for the placement they had chosen. 

The next day, Dugan also accompanied Steve, Bucky and Peggy. 

Steve and Peggy had apparently been talking to each other about where they wanted their tattoos to be. It seemed like they hadn’t reached an agreement. 

“I thought the point was to be able to hide it.” 

Peggy crosses her arms, almost out of patience. She was supposed to be the first one to get it, but now they were stuck arguing while the tattooer looked at them from his stool, also with crossed arms. 

Steve tries one more time. 

“I don’t think Colonel Phillips will be lenient if he catches you, I’m just saying…” 

“I do know that, Steve. And I know you’re…”, she avoids his eyes for a second. “Partially right. But I’d rather it had a meaning, too. Like the wings on your helmet.” 

Dugan was looking back and forth between them. 

“What’s the problem, exactly?” 

Steve turned to him, asking for help with his eyes. 

“She wants it on her ankle and I just mentioned that it would be very visible while she’s in uniform…” 

Dugan nodded thoughtfully, then asked Peggy directly. 

“What is it that you want it to mean?” 

“Do you know Hermes from Greek mythology? He’s the emissary of the gods… Also the god of the transgression of boundaries. I thought it fitting. His symbol is either wings on a helmet, or on his feet.” 

“He had winged sandals, actually.” Bucky called out from behind them, where he had been at a respectful distance for a while. 

“Indeed,” Peggy responded. “But that’s why I want it on my ankle.” 

Dugan shrugged. 

“I mean, I get it, mostly, but the Captain is right. It will be impossible to hide.” 

Peggy sighed in defeat. 

“I guess so.” 

“Maybe in another place…?” Steve started saying. 

“Alright,” Peggy said suddenly. “I know a place only people I  _want_  to see it ever will.” 

And she unbuttoned the first button of her jacket. 

Steve swallowed audibly. 

“D-d-do you want us to s-stay or leave or…?” 

“You can stand outside,” she said nonchalantly. “I’ll call on you when I’m done.” She put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “And you can have the ankle one. That way you will be three quarters Hermes, instead of only half.” 

Steve nodded, red-faced already for a while now. He managed to direct a pointed glare to the tattooer, who had the gall to  _salute_. Defeated in more ways than one, Steve stepped out of the room, Dugan and Bucky right behind him. 

They stood awkwardly with their back to the door until quite some time later, when Peggy opened it, thanking the tattooer with a smile on her face. She spoke to Dugan first. 

“Pretty interesting man, Dugan. I like him.” 

Dugan half-bowed. Steve cleared his throat. 

“All squared up, then?” 

Peggy looked at him, smile renewed. 

“All squared up, Captain. I believe it’s your turn now. 

Steve nodded and they all headed back inside. The tattoer greeted him and asked where he wanted his tattoo. He pointed to his ankle. The tattooer started to work. 

As it turns out, not being able to get drunk wasn’t the only thing the super-serum had given him. 

Each time the tattooer put the needle on his skin, it healed over so fast he barely had time to wipe the rest of the ink off. 

“Is this going to work?” Steve asked, feeling silly for not having foreseen this. 

The man stabbed him again, all single focus. “I can make it work. But it’s probably going to take longer than it did for the others.” 

“Okay.” Steve said, unsure. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

The tattooer grunted and kept going. 

In fact, ‘longer’ actually meant ‘several hours’. The first one to excuse herself was Peggy, because she had to report back. An hour later, Dugan also started restlessly pacing around the dingy room. Steve looked up at him and told him to just go. 

“Are you sure? It was my idea, after all, I should be…” 

“Go and get some sleep. It’ll be fine.” 

“Alright.” Dugan made a beeline for the exit. 

Steve looked at Bucky, who was sitting on the other available chair and staring off into space. 

“You can go too, you know.” 

“And I’ll just have to come back later or even another day”, he croaked, having been silent for a while. He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Nah, I’m good. It’s fun seeing you wince every now and then. For hours.” 

‘You’re barely looking at me’ Steve wanted to say, but didn’t. 

 

* * *

 

When Steve’s tattoo was finally done, the tattooer excused himself to ‘stretch, smoke a cigar, maybe eat something’ and Steve and Bucky were left alone in the room. 

Steve was looking at his ankle. His skin was perfectly healed already and the lines seemed to have smudged just a bit, but considering the circumstances, he thought it turned out pretty good. He made a mental note to tip the tattooer  _very_  generously. 

He extended his leg and twisted the foot around to show his ankle to Bucky. 

“What do you think?” 

Bucky looked at it with an overtly critical eye. 

“At least you definitely won’t catch an infection.” 

“Yeah”, Steve put the foot down, still looking at it. “Hey, where are you getting yours?” 

“Well, I’m thinking…” He rolled back his left sleeve and put his index finger on the inside of his wrist, where you would check for a pulse. “Probably here. About…” Now he put his thumb over it. “This big.” 

Steve nodded. 

“It will look good there, though it might hurt more. And it’ll be harder to hide in summer.” 

“Yeaaah…” Bucky stretched out his arms, back cracking after sitting for so long. “Don’t really care about any of that.” 

Steve chuckled. “Fair enough.” A pause. “Why the left wrist, specifically? You just like it more?” 

“Well…” Bucky also cracked his neck, looking at the floor. His gaze went to the symbol in Steve’s ankle, then up to his face. “It’s the closest to the heart, isn’t it?” 

After all these years, Bucky still managed to catch him off-guard. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something. 

Then the tattooer entered the room again, and the moment was lost. 

Bucky got up, switching chairs with Steve, and pointed out the place to the man, who started working right away. 

 

* * *

 

Steve is still looking at Bucky from his side of the couch. Neither of them have said anything in a while, after reminiscing about times past. Bucky is the one who speaks first, and his voice has a rawness to it that makes Steve’s heart ache. 

“It sucks, you know? Not only forgetting, losing memories, but even losing a reminder of a memory… One I really wanted to keep.” 

“I’m sorry”, Steve says, as softly as he can. 

Bucky exhales, trying to ease some of the tension coiled in his body. His hand is on top of Steve’s legs, and he’s being mindful of how strong his grip is. 

“Would you like to get it again?” 

Bucky blinks, thrown off his train of thought. 

“What?” 

Steve puts the book down on the floor and sits up, Bucky releasing his legs. Steve crosses them and leans forward, shoulder bumping with Bucky’s. 

“You can just get it again, you know. We don’t always have to get things back. We can make new memories.” 

Bucky looks at him from under half-lidded eyes, expression serious. He closes his eyes and scrunches up his face, as if willing for something in his mind to go away. 

He opens his eyes and smiles tiredly. 

“I would like that, yeah.” 

Steve beams right back at him and sneaks an arm around his back, pulling him closer. He rests his head on his shoulder. Bucky turns his own head so their foreheads bump. They stay like that a while. 

Steve leans back a bit, enough to have a conversation, but still very much planted firmly inside Bucky’s personal space. 

“Where do you want to get it this time?”, he asks. 

Without saying anything, Bucky taps the spot on his upper left chest, right over his heart. 

Steve’s eyes go soft. 

“That’s… It’s great.” 

“That way, if it goes, all of me goes.” 

“Please don’t ruin it.” Steve says with a mock-stern face. 

Bucky has the faintest smile on his face. Steve chuckles. 

“Okay. Then. We need to find a trust-worthy place… We’re fugitives, after all.” 

“You think the guy who did ours the first time is still alive?” 

“Unlikely.” 

“Well, I don’t know a guy.” 

“I do”, Natasha pipes up from somewhere behind them, startling them both. 

Steve recovers first and turns to look at her over the side of the couch. 

“Is he a spy?” 

Natasha smiles. 

“Was. Started undercover, then found out he actually liked being a tattoo artist. He’s been off the game for years. He’s safe.” 

Bucky is also looking at her now. 

“I have another question. Is he also Russian?” 

“Moldovan.” 

“And you trust him.” 

Natasha nods. 

“Alright. I guess we’re doing this.” 

“I’ll contact him. He does house calls.” 

Natasha smiles at them both and slinks away, as silently as she had come in. 

Steve turns around in his seat and lies back down, this time with his head in Bucky’s lap. 

“Yours is going to look way better than mine. Again. I’m sure they have better ink now.” 

“And hygiene conditions. I don’t mean better, just… Some.” 

Steve laughs. 

“I might get mine re-done. I mean, now you’ll have the same problem I had the first time, but I’m sure this century’s technology is better at dealing with super-soldier skin.” 

“Let’s hope so.” 

 

* * *

 

The night after they get their newly matching tattoos, they’re both lying in bed, lights already off. Bucky is almost asleep, but his mind is stubbornly holding onto consciousness still. Steve is on his side, one hand carefully tracing the lines of the tattoo on his chest. Close to the mess of scarred tissue the metal arm had left. 

It’s a feather-light touch, but it manages to tickle Bucky. He sleepily puts his hand on top of Steve’s to still it. Right over his heart. They can both feel it. 

Steve looks up at Bucky’s face, features as relaxed as they ever get these days. His calm breathing. The steady beat under their hands. 

He thinks how lucky he is to not only get something this important back, but also to be able to keep it. To remember, and also to look forward to the future. 

He falls asleep holding onto that hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the most self-indulgent Stucky I've written, and that's saying a lot, haha. (You guessed it, I have tattoos myself.) Anyway, thank you for reading, and any feedback will be endlessly appreciated!


End file.
